Delicious Choices
by SailorSilvanesti
Summary: [Day 2 Infinity Challenge Prompt: Zombies] Both magical and muggle worlds have fallen prey to the dark forces that Voldemort unleashed upon them as a final act of vengence; zombies roam the planet. However, all is not as it seems as two distinctive races of the undead come to light, one primal, the other remaining as they were in life, but smply dead. Established RedVines. R&R.


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Harry Potter, however, RedVines was sort of something we came up with on my page through collaboration.**

**I am partaking in the INFINITY CHALLENGE, 30 Days, 30 Prompts per OTP.**

**From the Potter Fandom, I have chosen: Ron/Neville, or 'RedVines'.**

In all honesty, this Prompt was far more difficult than the original, and ended up as it is... because it was the only thing to come to mind.

TRY TO ENJOY.

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**INFINITY CHALLENGE: HARRY POTTER**

**[Unusual OTP: Ron/Neville]**

**Ship Name: REDVINES**

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**Day 2: Zombies**

**~*Delicious Choices*~**

**~)0(~**

Whoever had said, '_Zombies know nothing but hunger, they are mindless beasts, slave to their need for flesh_', had been entirely wrong… but most likely, delicious.

As it turns out, Zombies -or at very least, those who were once people of the magical wizarding world before their turning- retained a certain amount of self-awareness, consciousness, whatever you wish to call it. They were still part-human at least in their own mind, and could not bear to be as depraved as the muggle zombies; shambling about grunting, chasing down innocents for flesh and tearing them apart as they screamed…

No, the ability to control themselves was presented the moment after turning…

Some chose the path of awareness, and others gave in to their immediate hunger. The latter were almost immediately disposed of by the remaining members of unturned faculty. In fact, after the very first few instances of turning, the Ministry themselves had imposed guidelines on how to identify a victim, and more importantly, how to destroy them if they should become a Primal.

In a battle of Magic against Zombies, it was generally magic that triumphed; although in a few rare instances, it was primal super-human strength that prevailed over the best of wizards and witches. Unless a Controlled was present to meet strength with undead strength.

Zombies did not need sleep, or to rest between kills, but those who used magic would eventually tire; therefore anyone who was turned was tested on their resolve, and either welcomed or destroyed. The choice itself was final. You could not change from a Primal to Controlled, or vice versa, they did not know why this was… but it was so.

Voldemort had unknowingly released this curse upon the world, thinking only of destroying his enemies by any means necessary -without heed as to why the ancient dark magics of necromancy and resurrection were buried and guarded. The late Dark Lord had driven the dead to rise from their graves, no great problem as the hordes of undead legions were easily destroyed within moments of rising by trained Aurors; or decomposed on their own as they were exposed to the elements.

However, the problem began when some Muggles in the surrounding area –on a leisurely Friday night out on the town- were chased down and bitten, changing almost instantly into ravenous flesh-eating Primal creatures who wanted nothing more than to tear the Aurors trying to save them, into various bite-size pieces. Many Ministry officials were killed or wounded horrifically in theat original battle that began the world-wide war on their undead counterparts; crawling from the battlefield covered in bruises and bitemarks, changing in moments to reveal that there were two separate species of walking dead roaming the world.

Voldemort himself had been destroyed; the unwitting sacrifice required to conjure the dead. Which was a relief as far as Harry Potter was concerned, but the immediate issue was that the 'Chosen One' was now the 'Dead and Decomposing One'. As were all the Gryffindors remaining at Hogwarts, and most of Ravenclaw…

No one knew who had been first affected within the wizarding school, but it was heavily insinuated that the dark magic had been targeted at eradicating Harry Potter specifically, with the zombie uprising a rather spectacular side effect.

Perhaps Voldemort had understood what he had unleashed and plotted for it to happen this way, to turn Harry against his friends and followers at Hogwarts starting with his own housemates… in the most intimate and debilitating of ways…

A far more likely probability was that the former Dark Lord had simply become impatient with hiding from Dumbledore and plotting in secret, growing reckless in his haste. Throwing caution to the wind by invoking dark powers beyond even his abilities to control, and letting them loose in the worlds –both magical and muggle. In either case, it worked out as intended (or not).

Harry had been infected by the dark magic, it's slimy tendrils working their way inside and under his skin as he slept; leaving the boy to wake in fear, to watch his body dying before his eyes in horrified fascination. Not even having the time to call for help as it all went black...

By the time the Chosen One had once-again regained consciousness, it was already far too late to do anything. Not only was the so-called 'Chosen One' quite dead, but he was also exceptionally, _ravenously_, hunger; _and in a room filled with half a dozen of his hale, hearty and utterly delectable-looking dormmates._

Although it had affected only Harry initially, it swiftly spread through Gryffindor House; starting with his closest friends, their siblings and ever outward… until an unstoppable epidemic of reanimation had slowly turned each and every member of the brave house upon each other.

The only upside being that, unlike Primals -who would tear you apart for flesh and leave barely enough to resurrect as a zombie; the Controlled –though programmed to spread the magical reanimation infection to all uninfected- are far more delicate at the process. A single bite, anywhere, will usually do it. Though a deep scratch had also been known to turn an individual…

Not that Ron didn't particularly appreciate how much pleasanter it was that Harry didn't immediately start eating his intestines as he slept, but awakening to find your best friend looking like death itself and looming over your bed in the middle of the night with the intention to grant you the same complexion… wasn't exactly a great improvement in his book.

To say he had been startled at first was an understatement… and Harry had taken a pillow to his undead face while Ron tried to find his voice to yell and warn the others. The redhead only thinking better of it after Neville, the closest to him, turned over and snuggled into his pillow; resolving there and then to just deal with whatever was wrong with Harry silently, to spare the others a rude awakening and much panic.

For his part, this new, undead Harry, was exceptionally apologetic for scaring the 'Bloody Hell' out of his best friend; but he did make clear his somewhat disturbing intentions. Which naturally led to the Keeper's vehement insistent that he'd let Harry 'do no such bloody thing!'

Unfortunately, this new zombified Potter had retained his highly persuasive charms, and spent a good ten minutes very cleverly arguing out the reasons as to why Ron should just let Harry bite him, '_a little_', and have it over with. Starting the closing statement with, "Well, I'm going to do it anyway the next time you fall asleep, so…"

Convincing enough.

It wasn't like he'd wanted to be a zombie, _Controlled_ or otherwise… but when your best mate asks you for something, at some point you're gonna cave and give in to make them happy; even if it meant zombification. Because if letting your best mate kill you wasn't the spirit of true friendship, Ron didn't know or care what was…

"Oh, alright then," the redhead sighed, giving up all pretence of argument and checking on the body bedside him before shutting his eyes. He didn't need to see to know where the other was; the cold body leaning closer and closer, hovering over him like some giant bird of prey, almost hesitating…

Ron sighed and quashed down a terrible pun about 'not being able to get it going', and nodded imperceptibly, a silent assignation of permission that he knew his best mate needed. As Harry's strangely sharp teeth pierced the flesh of his shoulder, and he tried not to make a sound, the redhead found himself wondering how Neville was going to react to all of this…

The Keeper had made Harry swear not to turn him, on his unlife, before agreeing; it had been his one major condition. If anyone was going to do it, it would be him, and ONLY if the brunette wanted it… which –come to think of it- the other very well might not, too. Which was fair enough either way, in his books.

'_Big decision, becoming undead, not something to rush into…_' Ron smirked lopsidedly at the hypocritical thought.

The thoughts were cut short as Harry withdrew, and sat watching him eerily, seemingly waiting for something. Darkness, like a soothing balm that coated over the hot, throbbing pain in his shoulder, encroached on his vision; drawing Ron down, down, and yet down again, into a place of nothingness. If this was what it was like to die, then he really actually couldn't see the problem with it, honestly… It was kind of… nice and comforting. Not scary at all.

Soon enough, though, consciousness was returning at a rapid rate. Two highly insistent thoughts entered his head in tandem. The first, that he was utterly, insatiably, ravenously hungry; the second, was the knowledge that he could easily push the gnawing hunger aside if he wanted, and remain this, sort-of human but undead creature. Both options were equally as tempting…

From beside his undead body, the redhead felt Neville shift about in his sleep seeking the missing body-warmth of his boyfriend, and immediately reached a swift decision. He would stay as Ron, in this new undying form, because there were others who still needed him…

It was that, or adhere to the ravenous hunger that would have him tear apart every warm body within reach, including the gorgeous teen stretched out by his side; the thought ran a cold chill down his dead spine.

"Still in there, Ron?" asked the familiar voice of Harry, his words having a surprisingly otherworldly cadence to them if you listened carefully.

He patted himself down theatrically, "Er, yeah, I think so… the only thing that's changed is that I'm still dead and… hang on," he lifted the sheets to look at something and blanched, "Uh, I don't think that's physically possible, given we're dead and all…"

Harry rolled his glowing, opaque eyes behind the familiar frames of his black-rimmed glasses in exasperation. "Trust you to immediately concern yourself with something like that. Probably magic… As far as I know it's the only thing keeping us semi-human when we 'change', not that I know how I got infected, just that I'm dead and have an urge to bite human flesh." He frowned, looking around the room at the other sleepers. "Alright, you're good to go and spread the undead fun about… so I'll just be over there, with Dean and Seamus, if you need me."

The Chosen One got up and wandered across the room, to a set of adjacent beds and gently shook one of the sleepers. Ron stopped looking, feeling somewhat apathetic after his great adventure in the unknown lands of death and, honestly, more concerned about the other male snuggled beside him. One who Ron knew was downright certain to notice at least _one _of the big problems that he was sporting at this very moment…

The other's hand must have brushed past his cooling skin by accident, as Neville woke in great alarm and looked straight into his glowing, dead eyes. He decided that he must have looked like something that had just crawled out of a muggle horror movie at the way Neville blanched in instinctive terror. Ron threw his hand out to clasp over the other's mouth, stifling the scream before it could burst forth and wake the other sleepers. "Hey, hey, no it's alright… I can explain," he soothed, looking directly into Neville's wide, frightened eyes and sighed as the trembling of the other failed to cease.

He didn't fight him, though. That fact did not go unnoticed by the undead redhead, and it warmed his stilled heart to know that no matter how frightened he was, Neville still trusted in Ron's promise that he was safe, that Ron wouldn't hurt him. The brunette reached up and slowly pushed aside the muffling hand with his own shaking ones, making a sad choking noise in place of words as the pale lips opened and closed soundlessly.

Neville cleared his throat and tried again, "R-Ron? Wh-what… you're so cold, and your eyes…?" he asked, raising his hand to trace his fingers across the undead skin, feeling the cold radiating out of Ron as if the other was a walking ice sculpture. Gazing scrutinisingly into the almost-opaque orbs, the Herbology genius finally took control of his fear and whispered, "_What happened to you, Ron?_"

Ron drew in an unnecessarily deep breath –heck, who knew if he even needed to breathe anymore? Though he did because it was a comforting sensation- and blew it out. Remaining silent a moment before answering, "It's a long story, Nev… but the highlights include –like always- something happened to Harry and my getting involved in it involuntarily. The idiot's gone and woken up on the undead side of -er, _unlife_- with a thing for biting people. I don't know how to explain it but, basically a while ago I woke up to him hovering over me, kind of like that," he helpfully pointed to where Harry was hovering over Seamus, conversing quietly.

"…and after a long argument, the git somehow convinced me to let him do, well …_this_, to me. Tosser's bloody persuasive when he wants to be, I tell you! The biting thing, though… it's some kind of instinct to try and turn everyone around you, and he was kind of polite enough to ask first. Wasn't really that pleased about it, but I did made him promise me something very important before I agreed…"

He reached out and took Neville's chin in his hand, looking directly into the other's eyes as he said, "I made him promise not to turn you, or let anyone else touch you… except… me." The redhead suddenly became sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck as he said, "Er, that is… only if you want to. I mean, we can still be together like this, but realistically Neville –I'm dead. Everything works and all," he gestured helplessly downwards and would have blushed if it was still physically possible for him. Neville's eyes followed his sweeping gesture, the tips of his ears going pink as he understood and had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing at his suddenly-undead boyfriend.

Well, laughter Ron could live with…

If it was a shock waking up to find Harry Potter –_who everyone expected strange and unusual things to happen to_- hunched over them, asking if they would mind ever-so-much if he could perhaps give them the kiss-of-unlife with his teeth...

Then certainly waking to the news that your boyfriend is no longer among the living but still virile, _must _be one of those moments you question if you had gotten on Snape's bad-side at some point and the Potions-master had slipped a little 'something extra' into your pumpkin juice the previous evening. All things considered, Neville was taking this remarkably well…

Or so Ron had thought, until…

From nowhere, a finger prodded him in the arm. The owner of said finger was frowning deeply, as if lost in thought; remaining silent for such a long time that Ron actively started to get concerned for the other's state of mental health…

They both pretended to ignore the accented yelps that came from across the room as Harry lost patience with his dormmates' inability to make a decision, and made it for them. Ron began to drum his fingers on his knee nervously… but it wasn't until after two more people had cried out that Neville finally broke the tense silence with a heartfelt, "I don't care, you idiot."

"Er…" responded Ron eloquently, unsure how to take this particular response.

Slowly a smile spread across the other's face as he sat up in the bed, pressing them closer together to whisper, "_I meant, you adorable idiot, that I don't care if you are alive, dead or some kind of newt-human hybrid… I love you._"

He flushed adorably, realising how bold he sounded, and Ron found himself smiling in reciprocation at how unusual it was for the brunette to be so forward about, well, _anything_. "BUT," Neville said in a firmer, louder, voice. "I don't want to grow old without you, Ronald Billius Weasley, even if it means I have to die to stay with you forever."

Suddenly, the brunette paused and groaned, hiding his embarrassment-flushed face in both hands, deliberately not looking everywhere but at Ron. "Oh Merlin's baggy Y-fronts, I sound like some badly-written, love-sick idiot, from one of your mother's soppy romance novels… WHICH I deny ever reading, not now, not ever, and certainly not while I was waiting for you to wake up on Christmas morning last year at your house." His eyes darted theatrically about between his fingers, cheeks aflame as the brunette tried not to laugh and spoil the over-dramatic scene.

Harry reappeared in their vision, startling the pair out of their own little world. "If you two are finished having a lovey-dovey moment, I need your –well, _Ron's_ help- turning the rest of Gryffindor House. Neville, if you don't want to make the decision right away, that's fine, but I should warn you… some of them might wake up not-so-coherent and more '_I want to eat your flesh_', so be ready to use '_Reducto_' at a moment's notice."

The still-human eyes went wide, turning on Ron and said in a firm voice said, "I've said this before –albeit under different circumstances- but, Ron, _BITE ME_… and then we'll deal with your other little problem…"

The brunette ignored the sound of protest Ron made at his choice of the word, 'little'… while Neville laughed, quietly consoling the other that it was a joke before taking a pillow to the face. Harry simply rolled his eyes, striding straight out the dorm door to find someone else to turn, as the atmosphere in the room became more sombre and serious…

More… exciting, as the redhead gently pressed the other back down, sliding off a shoulder of the blue-and-white pinstriped pyjamas the other favoured, and maintained eye contact as he eagerly bent to his task…

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It could be said, that Hogwarts was no longer like any other Wizarding School in the world; and that statement was a paradox in and of itself, as it contrived to be both, utterly accurate, and a complete falsehood at the same time. For Hogwarts still acted as a school of magic, although almost everyone inhabiting the planet was now either a member of the walking deceased, or dead.

The school contained three things at current, students who were either undead or still deciding their fates; and the graves for those who had turned, but chosen the Primal path. Certainly, extra measures, charms and incantations had been taken to prevent the Primals from breaking in, but otherwise, life went on as usual.

While some remained alive within the castle walls, including certain members of the teaching staff, none feared for their lives or even gave a thought towards living amongst the Controlled members of the undead human race. Sadly, though, a handful of students, and the former Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor (one Dolores Umbridge of the Ministry of Magic) had forced the faculty's hand into destroying them by reanimating as Primals; but the majority of the school body remained intact and in control of their lesser undead instincts. _Life,_ or unlife as it were, _continued as if the world had not changed in the least._

Faculty taught, students practiced their skills and learnt to control their magic; and even _Quidditch_ was played upon the grounds –although the recently 'zombified' school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, had had to get rather creative in her magical and medical practices now that the majority of student's bodies no longer retained the ability to heal injuries. There were some drawbacks to being the walking undead, but not very many…

The main difference in the school's practices thanks to this global crisis -apart from slight variations to the rules of Quidditch to incur less damage- was in the fare offered at the designated school mealtimes. It had been discovered early on that the Controlled could easily stomach normal food, but tended to demand more meat in their diet. Though magic could restore certain functions to the body, it made those it did –especially digestion- an incredibly lethargic process, therefore much of the student body and teaching staff could go many days before needing to eat.

Which was a positive fact Hermione Granger, at the least, advocated; now she could spend many days studying without the bother of having to rest every twelve or so hours, much less deal with the rigmarole of stopping to eat every handful of hours. The was her idea of paradise… and not a single person had yet contradicted her or challenged the notion, so the brightest witch of her age benefitted from being one of the immortal undead.

And, as they sat beneath the Whomping Willow without the fear of being attacked by the feisty flora as it registered them as 'unliving' and therefore not a viable threat, a redhead and brunette couple watched a pantheon of stars drift lazily across the sky. Certainly the pair had changed a little, for not even the hardiest of aurors would remain unchanged under the circumstances, and it had taken time to become comfortable in their new bodies… but the inherent love and attraction they felt had not altered. Even in these new, undead and often quite cold forms, the pair were still a matched set to the end of time itself…

Though sleep was not strictly a daily necessity anymore, like breathing or eating, many Controlled still indulged in the ritualistic behaviour for the sensation of normality it brought. Ron felt Neville wriggle closer on his chest, glowing eyes half-lidded and obviously almost asleep; still as beautiful as ever despite the addition of paler-than-normal skin, mildly-opaque eyes, and the way their bodies radiated cold instead of warmth. Lights in the darkness above twinkled merrily, defying the strange world by remaining the same stars that had shone down on the Earth even before the founders of this school were born…

How strange that something could remain so completely untouched, fixed in their role, when down on the planet the entire world had changed literally overnight on a mad man's wishes. Shaking his head of shaggy red hair, Ron smiled and quickly glanced down to check he hadn't dislodged the drowsy brunette. "The world sure is beautiful tonight, Nev." He said, offhand, looking about them with a new appreciation for everything that thrived about them.

The other failed to respond, but turned so his face was hidden, entire body relaxing as he fell asleep with a few muttered words. Ron ruffled his hand through Neville's silky brown hair, grinning idiotically as he whispered, 'Love you too…' to the adorable corpse in his arms.

Lights flickered on and off periodically in the castle windows, voices raising and falling with night classes now a popular way to pass the nocturnal hours of restlessness… and the redhead watched until the barest streak of light tinged the cloudy skies above, entranced by the normality of it all.

Then again, he thought was a strangely serious tone as his eyes began to slide shut of their own accord, no matter how much the world changed… he wouldn't really mind as long as he had Neville by his side…

_And _that_, was the clichéd, soppy romance-novel-he-swore-he'd- never-read-before _truth, Ron thought, and swiftly fell asleep as the dawn light began to overtake the skies above. Completely at peace.

**~The End~**

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Prompt 2/30 Down.

Let me know what you thought, yes it was a little strange, but it was the most unique thing I could think of at 3am.

**~*SailorSilvanesti/Phoenix Fire*~**


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